


you are the cause of my euphoria

by orphan_account



Series: ateez collection [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Butler Yunho, Developing Relationship, Guards Jongho and Mingi, Historical Fantasy, Isekai, Knight Wooyoung, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mage Yeosang, Minor Yunho/San Wooyoung/Yeosang and Mingi/Jongho, Pining, Prince Park Seonghwa, Royal Advisor San, Royalty, the Hongjoong gets isekai'd fic no one asked for but i wrote anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26272093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Amongst the kingdom’s ancient texts is the prophecy of a traveller from another world, who will gift the land with their presence. Park Seonghwa, the kingdom’s beloved prince, did not expect today, or any day for that matter, to be the one where that divine prediction finally rang true. He also did not expect said traveller to fall from the sky and smash into him at full velocity. Still, he can’t find himself to complain, not when Hongjoong is the one person who can make his heart race.(or the Isekai AU where Hongjoong is just a normal boy who kind of wants to go home and Seonghwa is the prince from another world who falls in love with him at first sight.)
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: ateez collection [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908790
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was titled “hongjoong gets isekai’d and laments the woes of capitalism while prince seonghwa gives him heart eyes” in my drafts
> 
> it's been about six months since i last posted anything and in that time i have a) finally gained the energy to use capitalisation in my writing and b) fallen ridiculously in love with ateez. I've been an atiny for about a year but they really captured me in a way i didn't expect when i was stuck in lockdown and so i wanted to write something about them! at best, this was meant to be an 8k long oneshot, but i have about 6k written right now and more to come, so i figured i'd split it up into chapters
> 
> i still don’t know how to characterise them or write dialogue but it’s all good! i just wrote this to have a little fun with the isekai trope which has been plaguing my manga reading experience lately. in other words i did no research about literally anything featured in this lmao

This kingdom is not a quiet one. 

They are deep in the throws of a new era, stumbling forward blindly into the age of machinery, and the city that forms a moat around the palace walls is ever-growing. The citizens are still high off their taste of revolution and the somewhat new royal family, twenty years of the throne behind their name, encourages the cheerful sounds with open arms. The royal gardens are usually the sole place of calm in the grounds of such a bustling castle, which is why the sudden burst of noise from the centre where the Crown Prince has his afternoon tea has the staff pausing in confusion.

Park Seonghwa is an intriguing figure. Prior ones to hold the position of prince had not been favoured by the maids and mages who had served the royal families of time past, for they had been the spoilt children of parents whose greed knew no bounds, so eager to dig through the palace’s treasury to snatch their latest fix. Seonghwa’s family stand tall, midnight-haired with narrowed eyes and sharp gazes, hoarding the jewels and coins for times of need, dragons in all but shape and scale. His reputation is by and large unscathed by the curse of materialistic princes, almost entirely clean of scandal, as he keeps his head down, speaking in hushed tones to his closest companions and holding steadfast to kinder morals. 

He has yet to dig his claws into the horrors of the battlefield, but Seonghwa has managed, through ten failed assasination attempts in the last year and constant training with the batch of knights he has befriended, to become a symbol of victory in conflict. Still, even a prince that cannot be touched by rouge hands is not immune to the more mystical happenings of his kingdom, for no one can dodge a man rapidly falling out of the sky.

This kingdom is no stranger to fantastical tales and amongst its ancient texts is the prophecy of a traveller from another plane of existence, who will gift the land with their presence as they flutter down to the earth on golden wings. There had been many pretenders over the centuries that had allowed those tales to gradually worm their way into the minds of the public. Wishful thinking had always let them slip through the cracks of proper inspection for months and while some had enough power to be useful, most were simply looking to thieve from the pockets of kings and queens and none could prove that they had escaped from another world.

Seonghwa did not expect today, or any day for that matter, to be the one where that divine prediction finally rang true. He also did not expect said traveller to smash into him at full velocity and possibly break one or maybe even several of his ribs. Seonghwa had grown up on such things, whispered softer and less foreboding fables by his nursing maids as his parents carved their influence into the corpses of rival factions. Maybe it was due to the smoke that often plagued the countryside air from still far off battles, but he had always preferred the tragedies his staff would scarcely speak of. Seonghwa would have never imagined he would be the one to catch Icarus on his descent down from the heavens. 

His head spins in protest after smashing violently into the stone path that lines the wall of roses, legs still tangled with the base of the chair he had been perched on only a second prior. Dazed, he can vaguely hear the confused shouting of the nearby guards, but he’s more focused on the solid weight on his chest and why his disorientated mind somehow finds the pressure comforting. Seonghwa takes note of his favourite tea set resting by his side, somehow both miraculously not shattered and not pouring anything scalding hot over him in the altercation, and the special kind of tart the cook’s always make just for him that is splattered into the flower bed, mourning the loss of the one treat he managed to sneak in just before another drawn out meeting.

The boy pinning him down against the dirt marring his pristine uniform - and he can already hear his mother lecturing him on appearing too unsightly before the appearance-conscious nobility - makes a soft and small noise of pain as if he is mirroring the pitiful sounds let out by a wounded woodland creature. Then, small fingers push down gently on Seonghwa’s chest, the feeble force not enough to hurt but enough to dig the prince even deeper into the muddy grave, and the boy rises from where he had landed, raising his head up into the summer daylight and - _Oh_. Oh no. 

Seonghwa faintly recognises Jongho’s heavy footsteps and the panicked rise and fall of Mingi’s deeper voice, but his treacherous brain just has to make a fool of him. “An angel?” Seonghwa blurts out without really thinking it through, even though he can hear the strangled laughter coming from Mingi, who has probably paused in his alarm to be embarrassed for the prince, renowned for being prim and proper, finally being caught off guard. He has no time to experience the oncoming shame, even if a flush rises over his cheekbones. The boy clutches a hand to his own forehead, wincing in the type of full-bodied pain that could only come from dropping such a height, and makes solid eye contact with Seonghwa for about ten seconds, before screeching as he scrambles off the other’s lap, accidentally smacking his boot-clad toes hard against Seonghwa’s poor knees. 

The boy looks as if he is spiralling through a dozen different emotions at once, failing to utter a single sentence as he just gazes around in shock, doe eyes wide like a deer caught at the end of a crossbow. That soft illusion is shattered when Jongho, conscious of possible danger even if it’s wrapped up in a small package, curls a hand not too gently around the boy’s arm, attempting to yank him up off the ground and drag him further away from the prince he’s meant to protect. The boy’s beret tumbles to the garden floor and he dangles awkwardly in Jongho’s tight grip, no strength left in his legs to keep himself upright.

Seonghwa lifts himself up on his elbows, rubbing a hand over his aching neck. He was already sore all over after his usual early morning training session and now his whole body throbs with pain, although miraculously nothing important seems broken. Mingi scurries over, holding out a hand to keep Seonghwa steady as he picks himself up off the ground, already wincing at the possibility of new bruises and the probable state of his once white jacket. As Mingi makes a fruitless attempt to swipe the dirt off his shoulders, Seonghwa rectifies his original guess, because if he is sure about one thing, it’s that the boy is mad, seething realisation finally sinking into his confused expression. “Okay, an angry angel.”

“Get your hands off of me,” the boy demands, albeit a bit shakingly, and the trembling quality to his voice doesn’t help convince Jongho to comply. The guard probably should have taken the boy a little more seriously, because as Jongho opens his mouth to warn the other to not cause havoc in the presence of a royal, the boy suddenly gains a burst of energy and- Seonghwa can only watch in astonishment as Jongho, who may be young but is arguably the most dedicated and imposing guard who has ever been stationed by his side, crumbles to the ground. The boy is back on his feet, whirling around to glare at Seonghwa, his plaid skirt flaring around his hips.

“Where the fuck am I?” he bares his teeth, tiny hands clenched into fists, small scratches criss-crossed over his cheek from the earlier fall. He looks like a kitten who got a little too careless with his own claws and Seonghwa is smitten in an instant. It takes everything in him not to accidentally coo at the boy who managed to land a hit on Jongho of all people, because the boy’s rage is kind of unintentionally adorable and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself even further. The sight isn’t all that threatening but Mingi still takes a defensive position in front of the prince, tall frame entirely blocking his view, and Seonghwa is almost thankful, because if he stares at the other any longer he’s sure he’ll say something stupid again. “And who the hell are you people?

“I am the Prince and you are trespassing on royal grounds.” Seonghwa tries to sound confident and not flustered, but he fails, the words coming out of his mouth slightly stilted and entirely unlike the smooth talk he had to master in order to deal with pushy merchants. The crown prince commands a room with his overbearing presence, can silence nobles with a single glance and has made even the most rebellious of the upper class into his loyal dogs, but suddenly, in front of this boy, he is simply Park Seonghwa, struck shy as he blanks all of his royal lessons. If this gets passed on from the guards, it will do _wonders_ for his reputation, although he’s sure his friends stopped taking him so seriously long ago. He’s also admittedly a bit put off by the sound of Jongho groaning in pain. “I believe it is more fitting for me to ask for your identity.”

The boy laughs, a mocking thing that is edged with too much desperation. “Sure you are. Korea hasn’t had a monarchy system since-” he pauses, blinking as if coming back down to reality from his sudden anger-induced high, glimpsing around his surroundings wildly. “I’m not in Korea anymore, am I?” Seonghwa shakes his head, although the other likely cannot see it and it was probably just a rhetorical question. The boy is silent, for a moment, as if searching for answers in the space around him instead of questioning any further, but his voice picks up again, a little more subdued. “And you’re not just a bunch of weird cosplayers who decided to prank some random guy off the street, are you?”

“I apologise, but I have no idea what you are referring to.” Seonghwa pats Mingi on the shoulder, sending him a disarming smile that tells him it’s fine to back down for now. It’ll do no good to cause further stress to their new guest, not when he is confirmed to be joining the ranks of the royal family’s favour soon. It’s only common courtesy to pay visitors with respect and Seonghwa is a willing host trained in making the best out of the strangest situations. Mingi takes a few steps off to the side, eyeing over the boy once or twice more before deciding it is safe to take the chance to check on Jongho. 

Without Mingi by his side, Seonghwa feels a little awkward all of a sudden, met with the full brunt of the boy’s analytical gaze. Now that the other has calmed, his eyes are sharp and unforgiving, piercing enough that Seonghwa’s professional smile becomes strained around the corners. He busies himself with picking up the knocked over chair, setting it into its rightful spot, before clearing his throat and gesturing to the other chair situated on the opposite side of the table. “Why don’t we both take a seat? We have much to talk about.”


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should probably wait longer between updates but i am impatient to get the pre-written chapters out 😔

The boy is- no, Seonghwa reminds himself that the angel (and he still can’t believe he called the other that, he’s sure Mingi will never let him live this down) is named Hongjoong. It’s an unusual one, not necessarily a name unheard of in this kingdom but rarer than most, for its meaning is fairly hard to live up to.  _ To become the center of a wide world  _ is surely a fitting phrase to be associated with the one the prophecy speaks of, considering he will soon be the focal point of all the gossip across the land for a very long time to come. 

Hongjoong is glaring at all of them, not particularly subtle about his irritation, though Seonghwa cannot bring himself to blame the other considering the circumstances. The air has gained an uncomfortable edge, all eyes trained on the center of the attention who somehow manages to remain confident under their observation. Hongjoong is not particularly all that threatening on the surface. There may be newly-formed bruises across the curve of his knuckles, but his chipped nails are painted baby blue and there’s a pastel pink ring in the shape of a bunny wrapped around one of his paint-stained fingers. But beneath that deceiving appearance, there’s something strong there, shining in the defiant glint behind his eyes. Seonghwa wishes to know more, to burrow through the boy’s facade and dig right into his heart for the answers of exactly who this traveller really is. 

It seems that Hongjoong is particularly put off by the guard stationed at the entryway to this little enclosure, the most forceful gaze being directed towards bright-eyed and gummy-smiled Mingi who has yet to show any offence. “Why the fuck is everyone here so tall?” he mutters under his breath and Seonghwa bites back a laugh as he looks even more offended when his personal butler rounds the corner, clutching a new round of tea in his large hands. Yunho may not have been a witness to the earlier commotion, but it’s clear that it was too loud for the rest of the staff to ignore and word has travelled quickly of what broke apart the peaceful atmosphere of the gardens for the first time. The tall man simply raises an eyebrow in Seonghwa’s direction and Seonghwa attempts a smile back, but it’s more of a grimace than anything.

“I believe some introductions are in order,” Seonghwa finally speaks up, watching as Yunho places a porcelain cup in front of Hongjoong, carefully pouring out a lavender-scented drink. It’s a more calming brand of tea, meant to help Seonghwa’s mind drift away from the amount of paperwork always piled onto his desk, and hopefully it will soothe any of Hongjoong’s anxieties as well. It’s strange. Seonghwa usually prioritises cleanliness, is even known by the maids for going the extra mile between cleaning hours to dust and wipe down his room by himself, but he doesn’t even frown for a second over the thought of Hongjoong’s colourful hands ruining the tea cup. “This is my butler, Yunho. If you need assistance with any simple tasks, such as meals or learning the palace’s layout, then he will be able to guide you. The guards here are Mingi-” who raises a hand up in a friendly, if slightly apprehensive wave. “And Jongho.”

“Sorry about your face, by the way,” Hongjoong says casually to the boy currently nursing a quickly developing bruise across his right cheek, sounding genuinely apologetic even if Jongho doesn’t seem too bothered. In all likelihood, it was probably just a fluke that Hongjoong, almost delicate in his frame with equally-as-damaged knuckles, managed to knock the other down. Seonghwa can’t stop the smile that twitches at the corner of his lips, for it’s not too often that he manages to hear sincere apologies towards the employees of the castle. If Hongjoong is going to smoothly fit into life here, he’ll at least need some close allies, and his willingness to own up to his mistakes is already putting him in the good graces of those Seonghwa surrounds himself with. “So, let me get this straight. You’re the crown prince of a kingdom that sounds like it’s right out of a fantasy novel and you have absolutely no idea how I ended up here.”

“Events like this are not common,” Seonghwa hesitates, taking a sip of tea to calm his nerves, wondering how much he should exactly reveal. Hongjoong deserves answers and he does not seem to be a danger to the kingdom’s stability on his own, but Seonghwa is well aware he should tread lightly for appearances are deceiving. “We have had a few pretenders over the years, but it is much harder to get away with lying these years.” Seonghwa deliberately chooses not to elaborate that they are in the position where they could force feed a Hongjoong a truth serum to learn his motives, but the whole falling out of the sky incident is proof enough to him that this boy is surely otherworldly. 

“Pretenders?” Hongjoong ponders, his tone questioning in a manner which borders on demanding, tilting his head to the side as he takes a long taste of the drink that had been offered to him. “Wait, let me guess. Some super special scripture mentions travellers from another world.” Seonghwa nods, surprised at the other’s quick deduction, although Hongjoong’s composed attitude despite everything happening to him was probably enough on its own to let him know that his reactions wouldn’t exactly be predictable. “If people like that are mentioned in myths, then they’d be seen as important. Maybe even important enough to be showered with luxury, yeah? I get it. It’s a route for people to go if they have nothing to lose. Lucky them. I wish this was all fake myself.”

From what Seonghwa has gathered from reading between the lines, Hongjoong is not personally familiar with such concepts as the monarchy and spell-casting, so how he is managing to take this so lightly is beyond Seonghwa. Something out of a fantasy novel was what he had compared this setting to, which meant that whatever place Hongjoong had been thrust out of considers everything Seonghwa has ever known an impossibility. Every inch of the palace walls, the title of Crown Prince, the enchantments that keep this kingdom afloat,  _ everything  _ would cease to exist if Seonghwa shared a similar fate to this boy. He could not imagine living in a world where what once was became the opposite, where reliance on magic is something limited to the pages of a book, where the weight of this kingdom on his shoulders would disappear without a trace. “Strangely, you do not seem fazed by this.”

Hongjoong shrugs, almost easy-going in the cynical smile that graces his lips, running a hand through his strikingly blue hair. “I’m a student, I’ve seen enough weird things happen on campus to get desensitised to random bullshit. And getting transported to another world? Eh, not the worst thing that could have happened. At least I didn’t get killed on the spot for flattening the prince.” Seonghwa blinks at the nonchalant words and the servants standing near seem similarly speechless, but Hongjoong pays it no attention, for either he doesn’t notice or doesn’t even care. “Hey, outside of the magic and aesthetic, this place probably isn’t all too different from Korea. We speak the same language at least. I mean, I’m not confused, but I still am pretty pissed off. I have an assignment due tomorrow for my production class. I can’t be hanging around your palace right now. So, you got any plans on how to get me back home?”

Seonghwa is still tongue-tied, although he’s gotten past Hongjoong’s questionable behaviour, for he knows far more of the boy’s future that he is willing to admit. He tries not to think of the inevitable - that this headstrong stranger will find out he cannot leave this place. Seonghwa stops himself from panicking, digging his nails into his palms to force himself to speak without stumbling over his words, for it will do no good to get too anxious over what is to come. It is better for someone qualified in the realm of such things to take the reins on this one, as Seonghwa is simply clueless on the matters of magic - and yes, he is using that as an excuse to not be the one breaking the news. “It would be best for me to direct you to a mage friend of mine. He will be able to give you detailed ideas of where to go from here.”

Seonghwa rises from his seat, offering a placating smile to the boy who doesn’t entirely seem convinced by his words, although Seonghwa is not so concerned by his scepticism as he is the other’s reaction to the unavoidable truth that this will be his home from now on. He can see Mingi in the corner of his eye opening his mouth to comment and Seonghwa discreetly signals behind his back for him to keep quiet, desperation glazing his eyes, and thankfully the other catches on quickly. “Wait,” Hongjoong calls out and Seonghwa focuses back on the enigmatic figure. “You haven’t told me your name yet. I can’t just call you the prince forever, can I?” 

His name? Seonghwa pauses in his stride, surprised at the forwardness considering few refer to him by name anymore. His closest friends are willing to behind closed doors, but in front of the world that reveres him as their prince, he is only ever called Your Highness to his face, although some of the nobles likely have more choice words for him in private. Seonghwa could merely just refuse and ask the boy to follow in everyone else’s footsteps, but he has never had someone truly treat him so informally in all of his years. Even his familial interactions have grown uncomfortably detached with the expectations of royalty. But Hongjoong knows nothing of this and Seonghwa gets the feeling that even if he had been raised under the strict guidance of the kingdom’s values, Hongjoong would not adhere to such standards. 

“It is Seonghwa.” He sounds unbelievably awkward once again, redness rising up to his ears so blatantly that the others will surely tease him for it in hours to come. Seonghwa has not felt this flustered since he was an inexperienced child, but it is not a distressing feeling. In fact, he wishes to invite more of it, wants to hear his name uttered in that high-pitched voice, wants to break past the barriers of his upbringing and finally achieve the relaxed bonds he has yearned for. He has not dared let anyone pick up on his weakness, that the prince is secretly, beneath his layers of cold aloofness, just as lonely as the rest of them, but the mask cracks a little under the attention of this new and welcome guest. “My name is Seonghwa.”

“Seong-hwa,” Hongjoong sounds out as he too takes a step forward out of his seat, pausing by the exit to the flower-filled hideaway. He is right there, back turned but still by Seonghwa’s side, looking over his shoulder contemplatively, so close that Seonghwa could reach out and brush the messy strands of hair out of his eyes. No one would stand so casually in the presence of a prince prior to this moment, but Hongjoong looks upon him not as a man unconditionally deserving of honour, but as a man on equal footing. It makes Seonghwa’s heart sing, the weak thing racing when Hongjoong’s lips slide into an easy and heartfelt smile that takes his breath away. “Nice to meet you then, Seonghwa.”


	3. three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the obligatory isekai exposition chapter is here! took a bit longer to edit than i thought it would, considering i was a tiny bit distracted bc of recent events, and it ended up way longer than i expected. apologies if the dialogue seems stilted, the autism prevents me from being good at that sort of thing.
> 
> also, you may have noticed that the amount of chapters has gone up. i originally thought there would only be eight, but i realised there was a lot more i wanted to do, and so i've upped it tentatively to fifteen. there may be more or less depending on how the writing process goes 

The mage’s tower is barren, as per usual. Most of their fairly substantial workforce are outsourced to the towns surrounding the capital, some taking on smaller jobs of protecting the civilians from the monsters that managed to get through the barriers surrounding the kingdom’s dense forests. Others take on a residential position, staying for months or maybe even years in the many villages that litter the land for miles ahead. The earth here had never quite recovered from the scorching it had received in that war and it takes the combined hard work of their farmers and the mages to allow the crops to thrive. Still, the few remaining, mainly younger apprentices, do not bat an eye at the prince entering, even if there is little for him to oversee here. 

After all, one of Seonghwa’s closest companions takes residence in this tower. Many years ago, on a procession through the hardest-to-reach regions of the kingdom, a far smaller Seonghwa had stumbled across a young boy half-frozen to death on the road side and even as a babe, the kindness that has become his staple as an adult reared its head. Even though Seonghwa did not yet have the commanding aura he gained through countless moments of trial and error, his conviction was enough to sway his parents onto his side and soon the boy had been bundled in blankets, finally warm and treated with goodwill. Seonghwa had promised the other a place here away from the harsh winters and he never breaks his promises. Yeosang has rarely left the palace grounds since. 

Hidden behind rows of old bookcases, situated at the furthest corner and highest point of the tower (so high that Hongjoong started complaining about the amount of stairs five minutes ago and still has yet to stop), they find the court’s most talented mage. Yeosang in in his usual spot, hunched over his desk as his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, soot streaked through his blonde hair and the cauldron by his side hissing in discontent. There are stacks of notes covering the floor till Seonghwa can barely see the carpet beneath. He’s either been working all the way through the night on another hypothesis again or he was forced to clean up after Wooyoung caused a mess, seeing as how the dark circles beneath his eyes are more prominent than ever. “Ah, Your Highness,” Yeosang mumbles, tired, rubbing a hand over clearly sore eyes. After Seonghwa has done his questioning, he’ll make sure to tell the other to get some rest. “I don’t suppose I could finally convince you to remove Wooyoung from this palace, could I?”

Cleaning up after Wooyoung it is, then. “Good afternoon, Yeosang. He messed with your potions again, didn’t he?” Seonghwa smiles placatingly, ruffling a hand through the other’s hair affectionately, fondly watching the other pat the strands back into place. “I’ll inform the head of knights to properly discipline him this time.” Of course, they both know it’s a pointless endeavour, since no amount of laps around the training yard could work to stop Wooyoung’s mischief. He is lucky that he is a friend of the prince, a solid asset for the crown and one of the more dedicated knights despite his troublemaking, otherwise Seonghwa could probably not prevent Yeosang from smiting him under any other circumstance. Yeosang wouldn’t inflict long-lasting damage, especially considering how soft both of them (secretly on Yeosang’s end, not so much on Wooyoung’s side) are for each other, but it is better to be safe than sorry.

Hongjoong’s head peeks over his shoulder, the weight of his body balancing awkwardly on his tip toes so he has to curl his fingers into the back of Seonghwa’s jacket, his fluffy blue hair and wide eyes just visible enough for Yeosang to raise an eyebrow at the sight. “You were serious about the whole magic thing then,” Hongjoong says, seeming more amused by than admiring of the ragged mage in front of him. “I mean, I guess we have the occasional miracle, if you believe in that sort of thing, but magic is on an entirely different level. This place gets weirder by the minute.” Seonghwa wonders how Hongjoong’s country copes without something so integral to his people, how the other land could manage on its own merit without outside help when that is next to impossible in this kingdom. Basic machinery is being manufactured just barely now, how far must Hongjoong’s home be in terms of innovation? Seonghwa has a lot of questions to ask, but now is not the time. 

Yeosang clears his throat and straightens his lax posture, realising that his casual attitude in front of a royal guest probably wouldn’t be considered acceptable by most. It’s a good thing that Hongjoong isn’t like most, seemingly caring little for forced and formal pleasantries, and he waves away Yeosang’s bow with the offer of a friendly handshake instead. “This is the traveller then?” Yeosang questions, scanning Hongjoong from head to toe with an inquisitive look in his eyes. The prophecies had twisted and transformed as they were passed on by word of mouth, but they always emphasised the traveller’s larger-than life presence. In that respect, Hongjoong isn’t all that impressive. But the ancients had never been spot on with their predictions anyway and Seonghwa finds Hongjoong, blunt and so far from what he is accustomed to, much more useful than a wildcard wielding enough power to topple kingdoms in their wake. “What is it I can help you with?”

Hongjoong rocks from side to side on the spot, careful with his habit as to not step on any of the many piles of paper scattered over the floor. “I’m not really a traveller, since I didn’t really come here out of my own free will, but I don’t really think there’s any title fitting to call me. I didn’t consent to anything, so I’m not a tourist, but I don’t think there is anyone to even call a kidnapper in this case…” He shakes his head to bring himself back to the point, breaking away the tangent from the right train of thought. “Anyway, just call me Hongjoong.” His fingers begin tapping nervously against his leg, fiddling with the edge of his skirt, a nervous tick that Seonghwa is beginning to catch onto. “To be simple, I don’t want to be here. I didn’t ask to get sent here and I have responsibilities back home, so I need to get back as soon as possible.” 

Yeosang sighs, wearily. Most know better than to pull him away from his work and he oftens relays any important messages through other mages on duty, not because he hates being the one to tell the truth, but because he is far too blunt for his own good. “Listen, I might be a mage and probably the most advanced one here, but honestly? I know nothing of how to reverse your situation. I wish I did, but this is far beyond anyone’s knowledge. We can do a lot of things that may seem impossible in theory to the average person and we have had a lot of breakthroughs over the last few years, but a portal to another world? That would require a lot of mana, probably far more than a human being could hold. If a spell like this did exist, it was probably banned and censored centuries ago since it would kill the caster.”

“So, there’s no way to send me back?” The frown that had graced Hongjoong’s face when he first fell into this world is back in full force, deeper than before, and Seonghwa edges closer to Yeosang, stepping discreetly between the pair as his comforting smile grows a little strained. Yeosang is the most powerful mage that his kingdom holds dear, but Hongjoong is a small ball of anger who is clearly missing his needed doses of coffee. It would be an equal fight. Not that Yeosang is likely to initiate anything when he’s this exhausted and dealing with a stranger, but after spending time with Hongjoong for the better part of an hour, he has a right to feel a little nervous. “That’s why everyone is so crazy for the idea of a traveller from another world? Magic exists here and no one can manage to do something so simple?”

“Portals are simple when you think of them in regards to just moving around this world, but a bridge from our universe to another one entirely? It’s impossible right now.” The corners of Yeosang’s mouth tilt up, as if he’s immensely amused by Hongjoong’s initial optimism, while Seonghwa’s expression grows forlorn, pitying the boy’s last bit of hope crashing down. “At least, it’s impossible with the kingdom’s understanding of magic at current. Our allied countries aren’t as advanced as us, so there is little point into reaching out to them for information since they have nothing to offer. The thing is that we are not limited in our studies of magic, so I have no idea how someone outside of our circle could be the source of this.” Yeosang crosses his arms over his chest, rubbing a thumb over his mouth as he thinks. “I wonder how you even got here. Even if a mage could do this, why would they drag along a random man? What happened before you got here?” 

Hongjoong does not seem fazed by the rapid fire of questions, mirroring Yeosang’s contemplative stance as he chews at his bottom lip. “It’s weird precisely because it wasn’t weird at all. Nothing was out of the ordinary. I was walking back home at midnight, but I stay late at the studio every day anyway so I’m used to it. I have deadlines to finish, after all. But everything was the same. Literally everything. It’s summer and the weather was warm like usual, so I didn’t bother wearing a jacket. I had my phone - uh, a device you use to contact people - out in case I had to text anyone for help, but there was absolutely no one around. I just know that one minute I was in Seoul and the next thing I know I’m falling onto some prince’s lap in a country I’ve never heard of.”

“That… isn’t exactly all that helpful.” Yeosang sighs once again, rubbing a hand over his forehead, his headache from Wooyoung’s shenanigans probably returning once again. “I was thinking that maybe there was a weak point between our two realities, but naturally made portals always distort the area surrounding them. If there wasn’t a sudden down spike in temperature or if the area itself didn’t start to blur, then what happened to you wasn’t just natural. Yet, it’s hard to believe that you coming here was a man-made feat, considering it’s impossible by the standards of anyone in this land.” Yeosang smiles, a tense thing that would almost seem mocking if Seonghwa didn’t know any better. The sight of it signals how stressed the other is by just not knowing something this revolutionary. “You’ve mentioned miracles before? I think that is the only explanation I can offer. It’s entirely a mystery to me. I’ve got to thank you, Your Highness. This is the most challenging case I’ve seen in years. It is… interesting, to say the least. It’s unfortunate I can’t research it.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” Hongjoong asks, the grip of his fingers tightening over the material covering his thighs, the fire in eyes suddenly a little more aggressive than before. His teeth sink ever further into his red-raw lips and Seonghwa can’t help how his sympathy intensifies as the other hurts himself in order to hold back. This is all so sudden. The events that have transpired are moving fast and quick, shaking the inhabitants of the palace to the very core, and Seonghwa can’t imagine how much worse it must be for Hongjoong. The boy took one step forward on a street he knows like the back of his hand and ended up tumbling through the clouds right into Seonghwa’s arms. He’s facing the worst possible scenario, that everything he has ever known has been torn away and no one is able to return him to his comfort zone. Seonghwa has always prided himself on his ability to remain calm in the toughest situations, but if it was him in Hongjoong’s roughed-up shoes, he isn’t sure he’d be able to stop the overwhelming sense of dread. 

“I definitely can’t. I have the whole library here memorised and nothing written here could provide a single clue of what happened to you. Unless the royal family has managed to dig up some old documents that the prior lineage censored-” Yeosang peers over to the one person in the room who would be privy to such information and Seonghwa shakes his head, already having lamented the loss of all that history many times over. His family had scoured the private archives for any information lost to the rest of the society and unfortunately found little of worth. If Seonghwa is forced to offer a single compliment to those who had reigned before his parents, he at least is able to say they were thorough when it came to their very questionable ambitions for their kingdom. “If His Highness was unable to find any of the banned mage testimonials, then any chance of them surviving is miniscule. So, yes, I cannot help here.”

It doesn’t seem as if Hongjoong will calm down any time soon, especially not if he is left to face Yeosang’s candid speech for too long. Seonghwa makes a half-hearted attempt at motioning for Yeosang to halt, but even if they are childhood friends, he’s never been that good at keeping him under control. Maybe in the eyes of the nobility he is a nuisance with a solid grasp of how to keep the more disobedient lords on a tight leash, but those close to him have always managed to laugh off his disapproving frown as they tease him for the split in his personality. Yeosang in particular has seen too much, knows the ins and outs of Seonghwa’s personality intimately, and is far too good at picking up on Seonghwa’s little quirks that highlight his emotional state too well. The mage’s eyes flick between the prince who instinctively has his hands up in a pacifying gesture and the boy by his side who is dealing with too much internal conflict. His gaze lingers and he chuckles, already amused. “It’s been less than a day and you’re already like this?”

“Please stop talking,” Seonghwa pleads under his breath, planting his palms over the curve of Hongjoong’s shoulders. His soft brown eyes betray the pout on his lips as he stares up at Seonghwa, expression unreadable, although Hongjoong likely wants to stay here and attempt to drag any clues he can from a man who can offer nothing. “While Yeosang finally gets some rest-” he sends a meaningful look over the mage currently swaying from side to side, only kept steady by the press of his own hand on the desk in front of him. He’s conscious enough to offer an entertained smile at Seonghwa’s expense, but Yeosang will probably soon pass out on one of the blankets Seonghwa makes sure to keep hidden up here. “How about I show you around the palace so we won’t distract him, hm?” It’s not so much of a question as it is a demand and he carefully twists Hongjoong around to the direction of the exit and leads his forward, barely avoiding one of the larger stacks of notes blocking the doorway. 

The door clicks shut behind the pair and they are left in silence at the top of a spiralling staircase. Seonghwa makes a quick mental note of what places are probably safest to introduce to a brand new citizen, especially one who will become surrounded with intrigue. He doesn’t want to make Hongjoong uncomfortable with any of the staff staring so blatantly at him and his parents are probably holding back interested nobles from storming the palace gates to get a glimpse of the traveller. It will be best to keep to the more private wing, he imagines, as far away from his parents as possible as well, considering they will likely curse him for cancelling his afternoon meeting. Seonghwa presses forward by a step or two before noticing the lack of Hongjoong’s once overbearing presence. The boy is paused by the door, looking at Seonghwa with an unreadable glint in his eyes, his voice a little more soft than before. “Just so you know, I’m not giving hope.” His tone is heavy with determination and yet sounds so easily broken all the same. “No matter what anyone says, I’ve got to keep believing, haven’t I?”

“You’re very optimistic. Most around here would have given up already,” Seonghwa notes. It is not intended as an insult, especially not when others would easily go as far as to call the boy delusional. Life in this kingdom has and always will be an up-hill battle. There are as many negatives to face as there are positives and even the more cheerful figures cannot go long without succumbing to some of the cynicism. Seonghwa never had to face that himself, not when his parents would return home with their armour stained with blood and guts of enemies long passed, not when he experienced first hand the judgement and unstoppable hubris of the men who tried to rule him. Yeosang had been forged in the ice and snow of a town that had almost frozen his heart still, Jongho’s once youthful and childlike smile had slipped the more and more times he had to defend the prince’s life and Mingi may have never let go of his smile, but something bright in those eyes had died long ago. Hongjoong is a breath of fresh air amongst this ruin. “But I do have to admit, we need more of that kind of hope around here. Alright then.” Seonghwa smiles, almost blindingly bright, energised more than he has felt since he was a child clinging onto the remains of his youth. “I’ll believe in you, Hongjoong. For better or for worse.”


End file.
